Wayward Son
(Part 1 of the Jihad Trilogy)
Jihad
Deep in the desert of what used to be known as the Sahara, the moon is just beginning to peek out as the sun continues its descent. As the soft winds blow the sands into the dunes that make up the sea of the Sahara, he continues his solitary march. Fully knowing his fate he continues walking as a single thought fills his entire consciousness, imbuing him with the will to continue. Leaning heavily on his scrap metal staff, he sees his goal through blood hazed eyes. Only the thought keeps him going, only the memory of those who fought and fell with him in the field of battle keep him company, offer solace for his troubled, sinful past. Specters all of them, now only living in his fragmented memory, coming up in glimpses of a better time. The accident....his escape....The first time he met the couple that would change his life...seeing his first core...the raven test...and then the other, that horrible abomination. With that image he begins a downward spiral to the depths of the darker parts of his psyche, the death of his family......his first kill...the death of the couple that taught him, and the leering face full of fury and joy as they erupted into the fusion powered inferno as their cores were blown to oblivion. And then it came, the image of that red core, that terrible creation of a man's foolish ambition to create a god. They had tried to stop it, truly they did, but it was all in vain, they only managed to enrage it, to make it focus that horrible red eye upon them. Then there was only him, standing in front of this being that had no heavenly business existing in this world. The figure blinks blearily up at the setting sun, knowing it was his hourglass, for the temperature drop at night would surely finish him. Forcing himself to forget he continues toward his goal, if only he can get to it there might be a chance. He would happily die here after all that which he went through, his mission is complete, why must he be tortured in this manner, all he wanted to do was sleep in the warm alloy embrace of his companion. Alas the fates had a much crueler role for this man to play in the vast story of the Nest, one that would bring him to the brink of destruction and back, and only then may he find some measure of peace. The figure collapses in the sea of sand, muttering his final words to the uncaring winds and the massive giant that lay eviscerated a mere feet in front of him.
"Blackjack...."
Signs
The city of New Haven was usually quiet, people liked to keep to themselves, mind their own business. You can't be accountable for what you didn't do, even better if you didn't know about it. Tonight though, a forgotten shadow seemed bent on breaking the rules. In one of the many small alleyways that seemed to pop up faster then the buildings themselves, a scream pierced the tranquil night.
"AAAAAAAAARRGGHHHH!!! Dammit!! I told you I don't know anything," the average street thug gritted through his teeth while clutching his ruined shoulder.
Seemingly oblivious to the man's pleas, the specter repeated his question, "What have you done with him?" He punctuated the last word by slamming his boot into the poor thug's shoulder and twisting it.
"AAAAAARRRRRGGGGHHH!! I told you, I don't know, they don't tell me anything you'd have to ask Dusk ARRGGHHH!" The figure relinquished the pressure on the man's shoulder, and left the alleyway silent except for the whimpers and moans of the broken man.
"Dusk..."
New Haven Arena 12:30 P.M. Grand Melee Finals
The Grand Melee was for lack of a better term, the biggest AC brawl in arena history. Twenty ACs went in and only one came out in one piece.
Today's crowd favorites were a surprising newcomer who decimated the competition in all his previous matches, but lacked the finesse to be considered a Blader, which was a title many strove for but few attained in this new age. The second was the current champion, Dusk riding his favorite steed, Nightfall into the fray. Nightfall boasted an impressive arsenal consisting of medium legs and arms with an ORCA core and blade arms. The latter gave a chill to all those who were about to face him, it signified him as a Blader, and one of the best at that. A chain gun and small missile launcher rounded off the machine into a fearsome juggernaut. Its bright orange and red visage supported this image, and had given him the reputation as the "Scarlet Fury".
The contender's machine was of a slightly unorthodox style for the event. While most ACs in the competition this day sported no blade, this able bodied warrior did in fact equip one. This confirmed the crowd's suspicion that he wanted Dusk's Blader title, and assured the audience a good show. In addition to that he equipped a small grenade launcher and extra ammo pack on his back, a rifle, and the said blade, based on a new design sacrificing power for range and speed. His core was medium weight with an overboost system, and better then average AP. His legs were at a strange angle with the knee joint in front covered by armor instead of in the leg, like most bipedal designs of the time. The head was a MISTEYE giving it a slanted view as if the machine was angry and furrowing its brow in rage. A dull gray hue covered all its parts, showing that he was in fact a new contender and had not thought to paint his machine before the matches. The only emblem was that of a black winged angel with its sword of flame held high as if to challenge all who gathered to come for him. The AC's name was Xavier, a name that the viewers this night would remember for ages, even after the pilots name faded back into obscurity, as it was, for that matter, right now. He had requested not to be known till he won, and he told this to all those who came to register that day achieving him a place of infamy, and from some, grudging respect.
The crowd was getting unruly with all the waiting, so the arena higher ups decided they better start the show.
The arena was designed in the lost style of the Roman Coliseum, favoring arched entrances for the warriors, and a circular shape so that the onlookers could see all from their box seats 300 yards up and protected by the most reliable shield to date.
The fighters entered the arena as their titles were announced to the glee and delight of the onlookers. Such a plethora of ACs was a rare sight indeed; the range was from the smallest to the largest core in production, with such a variety of weapons as to make even the hardest general drool. The two previously mentioned contenders, by fate of design or by a higher power, ended up directly opposite of each other as the AC's lined the walls and prepared for that singular surge forward where the Melee would begin.
Then the five light counter flickered on, and all fell silent.
"Hey, newb! Don't scratch your pretty paint job!" whispered Dusk over the Commlink
"Feh," and an enigmatic feral grin were the arrogant gentleman's only reply as he throttled his fusion reactor to full power and prepared to release the limiter.
The small conversation took 3 of the five lights, and now the entire arena hummed with energy, and raw power.
On the second light a siren began to screech through the massive hall, and the crowd burst into an uproar, anticipating the carnage they were about view, anticipating the bloodshed.
At the final light all the contender's raced toward the center intent on carnage and destruction, most got caught up in small skirmishes immediately, some just smashed into each other at full speed shedding armor like paper.
Two contenders however continued their suicide run, oblivious to the whirlwind around them, completely focused on the image in front of them. The enigma fired 3 grenade rounds that spiraled in toward their target intending to take off one of those deadly blade arms. The "Scarlet Fury" was ready for such a trite attack and went into an almost lazy spiral to the left as he fired a volley of his missiles at his opponent's heart. Without loosing any momentum the rookie dodged 3 of the four missiles, and methodically blasted the other out of the sky in three shots from his rifle. Unluckily he had lost sight of his opponent who had now covered half the ground between the two, and was now pelting the area in a barrage of chain gun and Orbiter fire. Understanding that a sacrifice needed to be made, the man who was once thought to be a rookie, throttled his boosters to full and ran headfirst into the manmade fire. The "Scarlet Fury" grinned with glee inside his cockpit, his face illuminated by the harsh red glow of the monitor. The grin was short lived, and soon twisted into a snarl as the plain gray AC emerged in front of him, swinging his blade and rifle in tandem, efficiently knocking out both the machine gun and the unused missile launcher on his shoulder. Both competitors boosted away from each other, giving both some room to breath. The entire ordeal happened in less than a minute, and in that time 7 of the other AC's had fallen to their own inexperience. However, the enigma's AC did not escape unscathed, all of its back weapon systems were trashed, and the barrel had been bent in his last fierce charge.
Both opponents extended their blades knowing that this was where the true fight would begin. Once again though fate had other plans, Xavier was assaulted by a volley from three other AC's who saturated the doomed AC in crimson hell.
"Damn it!! You son of a bit!!" were the last words the Enigma screamed as he drifted into the uncaring abyss, the last thing he heard was the jeering laughter of Dusk before everything went dark...
On top of the open air arena stood a solitary figure draped in black, watching the battle unfold before his eyes knowing how every move would end, and who would die. This is the burden of his skill, watching without the ability to stop or warn, watching the world move behind a pane of one way glass. He noted the deceit as the underlings of Dusk took out the honorable young man in a way that seemed so familiar to him for some reason. The thought stayed only for a mere moment when more imminent concerns filled his thoughts as the announcer called the victor by name. A name that the specter repeated to the midsummer winds that settled across the city, beckoning back memories of better times.
"Dusk..."
(Part 1 of the Jihad Trilogy)
Jihad
Deep in the desert of what used to be known as the Sahara, the moon is just beginning to peek out as the sun continues its descent. As the soft winds blow the sands into the dunes that make up the sea of the Sahara, he continues his solitary march. Fully knowing his fate he continues walking as a single thought fills his entire consciousness, imbuing him with the will to continue. Leaning heavily on his scrap metal staff, he sees his goal through blood hazed eyes. Only the thought keeps him going, only the memory of those who fought and fell with him in the field of battle keep him company, offer solace for his troubled, sinful past. Specters all of them, now only living in his fragmented memory, coming up in glimpses of a better time. The accident....his escape....The first time he met the couple that would change his life...seeing his first core...the raven test...and then the other, that horrible abomination. With that image he begins a downward spiral to the depths of the darker parts of his psyche, the death of his family......his first kill...the death of the couple that taught him, and the leering face full of fury and joy as they erupted into the fusion powered inferno as their cores were blown to oblivion. And then it came, the image of that red core, that terrible creation of a man's foolish ambition to create a god. They had tried to stop it, truly they did, but it was all in vain, they only managed to enrage it, to make it focus that horrible red eye upon them. Then there was only him, standing in front of this being that had no heavenly business existing in this world. The figure blinks blearily up at the setting sun, knowing it was his hourglass, for the temperature drop at night would surely finish him. Forcing himself to forget he continues toward his goal, if only he can get to it there might be a chance. He would happily die here after all that which he went through, his mission is complete, why must he be tortured in this manner, all he wanted to do was sleep in the warm alloy embrace of his companion. Alas the fates had a much crueler role for this man to play in the vast story of the Nest, one that would bring him to the brink of destruction and back, and only then may he find some measure of peace. The figure collapses in the sea of sand, muttering his final words to the uncaring winds and the massive giant that lay eviscerated a mere feet in front of him.
"Blackjack...."
Signs
The city of New Haven was usually quiet, people liked to keep to themselves, mind their own business. You can't be accountable for what you didn't do, even better if you didn't know about it. Tonight though, a forgotten shadow seemed bent on breaking the rules. In one of the many small alleyways that seemed to pop up faster then the buildings themselves, a scream pierced the tranquil night.
"AAAAAAAAARRGGHHHH!!! Dammit!! I told you I don't know anything," the average street thug gritted through his teeth while clutching his ruined shoulder.
Seemingly oblivious to the man's pleas, the specter repeated his question, "What have you done with him?" He punctuated the last word by slamming his boot into the poor thug's shoulder and twisting it.
"AAAAAARRRRRGGGGHHH!! I told you, I don't know, they don't tell me anything you'd have to ask Dusk ARRGGHHH!" The figure relinquished the pressure on the man's shoulder, and left the alleyway silent except for the whimpers and moans of the broken man.
"Dusk..."
New Haven Arena 12:30 P.M. Grand Melee Finals
The Grand Melee was for lack of a better term, the biggest AC brawl in arena history. Twenty ACs went in and only one came out in one piece.
Today's crowd favorites were a surprising newcomer who decimated the competition in all his previous matches, but lacked the finesse to be considered a Blader, which was a title many strove for but few attained in this new age. The second was the current champion, Dusk riding his favorite steed, Nightfall into the fray. Nightfall boasted an impressive arsenal consisting of medium legs and arms with an ORCA core and blade arms. The latter gave a chill to all those who were about to face him, it signified him as a Blader, and one of the best at that. A chain gun and small missile launcher rounded off the machine into a fearsome juggernaut. Its bright orange and red visage supported this image, and had given him the reputation as the "Scarlet Fury".
The contender's machine was of a slightly unorthodox style for the event. While most ACs in the competition this day sported no blade, this able bodied warrior did in fact equip one. This confirmed the crowd's suspicion that he wanted Dusk's Blader title, and assured the audience a good show. In addition to that he equipped a small grenade launcher and extra ammo pack on his back, a rifle, and the said blade, based on a new design sacrificing power for range and speed. His core was medium weight with an overboost system, and better then average AP. His legs were at a strange angle with the knee joint in front covered by armor instead of in the leg, like most bipedal designs of the time. The head was a MISTEYE giving it a slanted view as if the machine was angry and furrowing its brow in rage. A dull gray hue covered all its parts, showing that he was in fact a new contender and had not thought to paint his machine before the matches. The only emblem was that of a black winged angel with its sword of flame held high as if to challenge all who gathered to come for him. The AC's name was Xavier, a name that the viewers this night would remember for ages, even after the pilots name faded back into obscurity, as it was, for that matter, right now. He had requested not to be known till he won, and he told this to all those who came to register that day achieving him a place of infamy, and from some, grudging respect.
The crowd was getting unruly with all the waiting, so the arena higher ups decided they better start the show.
The arena was designed in the lost style of the Roman Coliseum, favoring arched entrances for the warriors, and a circular shape so that the onlookers could see all from their box seats 300 yards up and protected by the most reliable shield to date.
The fighters entered the arena as their titles were announced to the glee and delight of the onlookers. Such a plethora of ACs was a rare sight indeed; the range was from the smallest to the largest core in production, with such a variety of weapons as to make even the hardest general drool. The two previously mentioned contenders, by fate of design or by a higher power, ended up directly opposite of each other as the AC's lined the walls and prepared for that singular surge forward where the Melee would begin.
Then the five light counter flickered on, and all fell silent.
"Hey, newb! Don't scratch your pretty paint job!" whispered Dusk over the Commlink
"Feh," and an enigmatic feral grin were the arrogant gentleman's only reply as he throttled his fusion reactor to full power and prepared to release the limiter.
The small conversation took 3 of the five lights, and now the entire arena hummed with energy, and raw power.
On the second light a siren began to screech through the massive hall, and the crowd burst into an uproar, anticipating the carnage they were about view, anticipating the bloodshed.
At the final light all the contender's raced toward the center intent on carnage and destruction, most got caught up in small skirmishes immediately, some just smashed into each other at full speed shedding armor like paper.
Two contenders however continued their suicide run, oblivious to the whirlwind around them, completely focused on the image in front of them. The enigma fired 3 grenade rounds that spiraled in toward their target intending to take off one of those deadly blade arms. The "Scarlet Fury" was ready for such a trite attack and went into an almost lazy spiral to the left as he fired a volley of his missiles at his opponent's heart. Without loosing any momentum the rookie dodged 3 of the four missiles, and methodically blasted the other out of the sky in three shots from his rifle. Unluckily he had lost sight of his opponent who had now covered half the ground between the two, and was now pelting the area in a barrage of chain gun and Orbiter fire. Understanding that a sacrifice needed to be made, the man who was once thought to be a rookie, throttled his boosters to full and ran headfirst into the manmade fire. The "Scarlet Fury" grinned with glee inside his cockpit, his face illuminated by the harsh red glow of the monitor. The grin was short lived, and soon twisted into a snarl as the plain gray AC emerged in front of him, swinging his blade and rifle in tandem, efficiently knocking out both the machine gun and the unused missile launcher on his shoulder. Both competitors boosted away from each other, giving both some room to breath. The entire ordeal happened in less than a minute, and in that time 7 of the other AC's had fallen to their own inexperience. However, the enigma's AC did not escape unscathed, all of its back weapon systems were trashed, and the barrel had been bent in his last fierce charge.
Both opponents extended their blades knowing that this was where the true fight would begin. Once again though fate had other plans, Xavier was assaulted by a volley from three other AC's who saturated the doomed AC in crimson hell.
"Damn it!! You son of a bit!!" were the last words the Enigma screamed as he drifted into the uncaring abyss, the last thing he heard was the jeering laughter of Dusk before everything went dark...
On top of the open air arena stood a solitary figure draped in black, watching the battle unfold before his eyes knowing how every move would end, and who would die. This is the burden of his skill, watching without the ability to stop or warn, watching the world move behind a pane of one way glass. He noted the deceit as the underlings of Dusk took out the honorable young man in a way that seemed so familiar to him for some reason. The thought stayed only for a mere moment when more imminent concerns filled his thoughts as the announcer called the victor by name. A name that the specter repeated to the midsummer winds that settled across the city, beckoning back memories of better times.
"Dusk..."